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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366598">could be us but you playin'</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/profound_garden/pseuds/profound_garden'>profound_garden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arsenal FC, F/F, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, arsenal wfc - Freeform, imagine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:48:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366598</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/profound_garden/pseuds/profound_garden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of AUs and imagines with some women's footballers. Open to suggestions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jill Roord/Reader, Leah Williamson/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Jill Roord x Reader: the morning after</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>no apologies we die like men. if i want to write self-insert fanfic with the hottest european footballers that's just my God-given Right. kicking things off with a quick little vignette of jillie and the reader post one-night-stand having a Discussion.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You groaned as you rolled over, the morning light making it impossible for you to go back to sleep. Why was it so bright anyway… you never left the shades open… Shit.</p>
<p>You sat up, memories from last night rushing back and the bed suddenly feeling very empty. You had finally made a move on Jill and had the best night of your life as a result (well, second best to winning the Champions League). But there was no trace of her now. You scrambled to throw on a shirt and shorts, clothes from last night still strewn across the floor, and stumbled out into your flat. “Jill?”</p>
<p>Turning the corner into the kitchen, the surprise you felt upon seeing that signature high bun quickly turned into relief. Last night wasn't just your imagination. She was still here, making coffee, and… not wearing anything besides one of your shirts. You suddenly felt hungry again. </p>
<p>Just then, she turned around and gave you a smile soft enough to remind you why you had fallen for her months ago when you signed with Arsenal.</p>
<p>“Hey, you,” she chuckled. “You look surprised.”</p>
<p>“Just enjoying the view,” you responded cheekily as you walked over. “Not everyday you find an angel in your kitchen.”</p>
<p>Jill shook her head, but she was still smiling. “Well, maybe if you didn’t sleep so late I wouldn’t have to get up and make the coffee myself.”</p>
<p>“What can I say, I have a nice mattress. You should’ve tried it out for longer. I was starting to think last night was just another dream.”</p>
<p>At this, Jill’s cockiness faded. “Sorry, I’m just used to waking up early for training. I didn’t mean to make you think…” She trailed off, unsure.</p>
<p>You decided it was now or never to put yourself out there.</p>
<p>“Hey, look at me. I meant what I said last night. Anybody would be lucky to be with you. Including me, that’s for damn sure.” You took a deep breath, feeling more nervous than you were for tournament finals. “Last night wasn’t just a fling to me, and you’re way more than looks, although you’ve got them.” You looked her up and down to make your point. “I know we were just teammates before this, but… I’d like to see where this goes, if you do.”</p>
<p>Jill took a slow sip of coffee, but you could still see her blush as she avoided eye contact. </p>
<p>“You’re very kind,” she said. You braced yourself for the inevitable rejection and awkwardness, hoping it wouldn’t affect the team dynamic.</p>
<p>Finally, she looked back at you and put a hand on your arm. </p>
<p>“Last night… it wasn’t just a one night stand to me either. I admit, I’m nervous, but I don’t want to let this end.”</p>
<p>You gaped for a minute before recovering enough to pull her into a slow kiss that you both smiled into.</p>
<p>“Good, because I think I’m ready for a repeat performance,” you whispered in her ear. This time, Jill was the one to lean in again, brushing her lips against yours before you tugged her back into the bedroom. She never did finish her coffee, but you had better things to do.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Leah Williamson x Reader: injury on the field</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader is a Chelsea player, Leah is (obviously) on Arsenal. Established relationship. What happens when the Blues take on the Gunners and the reader gets fouled?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this one's a bit longer</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Leah!” you yelled, throwing stuff in your game bag. “Have you seen my kit socks?”</p>
<p>“What!” she shouted back across the hall. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late!”</p>
<p>Zipping up your backpack and grabbing your boots, you ran a hand through your hair frustratedly before striding out of your room. “My socks, have you seen my—”</p>
<p>You paused, seeing her holding up a pair of white socks with the Chelsea stripe and letters.</p>
<p>“Looking for this, love?” Leah gave you a cheeky grin. “Found them on top of the washing machine.”</p>
<p>You sighed in relief, grabbing them from her hands. “Thank God. Emma would have flayed me for not having them. This is already my third spare pair.”</p>
<p>Leah just laughed. “Get in the car. She might still flay you for showing up late.”</p>
<p>On your way to the stadium, you started fidgeting more than usual, constantly changing the song while Leah was driving.</p>
<p>“Hey, quit that.” She looked over at you, annoyed until she saw you, scrunched into the seat and bouncing your knee. “Nervous?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I hate playing against you,” you muttered. It was true. Normally  you were able to flip the switch on the field, and just see your opponents as another team to beat. But being on the field against Leah just felt different. You always felt protective of her, but it was never fun to ignore your feelings while watching your teammates try and push her around. “Why couldn’t you have signed for Chelsea?” You joked.</p>
<p>Leah tore her eyes off the road for a second just to glare at you.</p>
<p>“Do not even joke about that. You couldn’t catch me dead in a Chelsea jersey.”</p>
<p>“Not even mine?” She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find a reply.</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gooner for life, huh?”</p>
<p>“Shut up. We’re literally on the way to my home stadium. You’d better show me some more respect so I don’t completely destroy you out there.” Right. The game. You clenched your fists anxiously.</p>
<p>At halftime, the score was tied 1-1. Vivianne Miedema had scored a ruthless strike within minutes, but Beth England equalized late in the half. It was a tough game, as you had expected, and players weren’t holding back from contact. You had already taken a nasty hit that knocked the wind out of you for a few seconds, and you could’ve sworn you heard Leah call your name when you went down. But you got back up quickly, having earned the foul, and tried your best to walk it off. After Emma gave a rousing speech in the locker room, the teams were back out to finish the game.</p>
<p>Everything was going well until the 72nd minute. You had been playing especially well, with your passes connecting cleanly and setting up plays, and it seemed like Chelsea was finally getting the upper hand. But as you were making a run down the wing, out of nowhere you found yourself stunned by pain after a sloppy foul from Daan van de Donk sent you flying. This time, you were sure you heard Leah scream. When you hit the ground again, you couldn’t even tell what hurt the most. </p>
<p>Vaguely, you could hear the whistle being blown and heated discussions between the ref and players — it sounded like Magda was appealing for a foul against a protesting Daan. But you couldn’t focus on anything except the grass against your face and the pain, which had now narrowed to your shoulder and your shins. You felt a hand on your back.</p>
<p>“Y/N,” Leah murmured. “Come on, love, you’ve got to get up. Please get up for me, Y/N.”</p>
<p>You groaned and rolled over. “My shoulder- it hurts-”</p>
<p>“I know, I know. It’s gonna be okay, babe.” The use of the pet name surprised you — Leah almost never used terms of endearment with you. You opened your eyes, which had been screwed shut from pain. You were met with Leah’s face, which looked more worried than you had ever seen her.<br/>Then, the trainers reached your side and quickly got to work, stabilizing you and asking questions about the injury. Throughout it all, Leah held your hand. </p>
<p>Eventually, you were helped off the field. The pain was already starting to subside, but you were in no shape to play the rest of the match. Essentially, you had gotten a late slide tackle at a bad angle and landed on your shoulder. The trainer had said you would probably heal quickly with rest, but you could tell your teammates were still furious with the tackle from the way they were playing. Daan had gotten off with a yellow card and a stern warning that she was lucky it wasn’t a red. A penalty kick was awarded, which Ji So-Yun crossed into Beth England for a goal that ended up being the only one until the final whistle blew.</p>
<p>Afterwards, Leah was the first one out of the Arsenal dressing room to find you, waiting by the car with ice packs strapped onto your shoulder and shins. “Hey,” she breathed, cupping your face with concern in her eyes. “How are you? What did the trainer say? Does it still hurt?”</p>
<p>You reached up to hold her wrist. “Slow down, Lee. I’m okay. The trainer said I’ll have some nasty bruises and soreness but hopefully nothing too permanent. Still hurts like a bitch when I move but I’ll be fine. Maybe you can help me make bed rest manageable,” you winked cheekily at her.</p>
<p>“Stop,” she said, finally letting go of you, but she smiled for a second until she turned serious again. “I was so scared, Y/N. I thought maybe something really awful had happened, I couldn’t-” You could see her getting worked up.</p>
<p>“Hey, hey, hey.” You smoothed her hair, trying to calm her as she wiped at her eyes. The same surprise you felt on the field came back — Leah was usually never a very emotional person. “I’m okay. Injuries happen. I was scared too. Daan’s just lucky I couldn’t get her back. That deserved a good socking for sure.” That finally got a laugh out of Leah. “She felt really bad — certainly got enough of a scolding in the dressing room after. All the Arsenal girls love you, you know that. She wanted to come apologize but she got pulled into interviews.”</p>
<p>You smiled. “All part of the game. She just better work on her tackling is all. Come on, let’s go home.”</p>
<p>Once in the car, though, you couldn’t resist looking over. “Babe, huh? Might as well have professed your love for me in front of the whole stadium.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” she mumbled. “I was worried. Not thinking straight.”</p>
<p>“Ah, it’s alright.” You reached over the console to grab her hand on the gearshift. “I get it, you just couldn’t control yourself. Don’t worry, I love you too.”</p>
<p>When Leah looked over at you, shaking her head fondly, you knew it was all going to be just fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>posting this is making me realize i could never irl look leah in the eyes knowing that ive written fic about her... so it goes with rpf i suppose. Obviously there's a difference between character and player! i do not not own anything! this "leah" is merely a fictional projection (not only because she is obviously kind of ooc (as if a fictional depiction of a real person could ever truly be "in character") in this fic)! disclaimers etc etc</p>
<p>also this wasn't meant to be daan-bashing lol she just makes it too easy. "hmm, what player could i possibly use for the plot device of a vicious tackle then argued over with the ref...??"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Jill Roord x Reader: Lucky Number (pop star au)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader is a a huge fan of the Oranjeleeuwinnen, an international pop star, and also majorly crushing on Jill Roord.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>these just keep getting longer since i have no concept of narrative or endings. by international pop star think like jbiebs or billie eilish or your musician of choice</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, that concludes the sound check. We’ll just add the last touches you wanted and we’ll be set for the show,” your manager said.</p><p>“Finally,” you groan, hopping off the stage. “Thanks, Sam.”</p><p>“Don’t thank me yet,” she scoffs. “Don’t forget, you still have some events tomorrow. A fan meet and greet, lunch with Harry Styles to discuss a feature-”</p><p>“Wait, what? He’s in Amsterdam too?” You couldn’t believe this was your life now. Sam looked up, unimpressed. “You think you’re the only one doing a world tour right now? Anyway, after lunch we have… oh, you’re meeting the orange lee winners or something. Soccer team? This was one of your requests.”</p><p>“Oranjeleeuwinnen,” you corrected absentmindedly, before it sank in. “Wait, I’m meeting them tomorrow? The whole team?” Suddenly you weren’t very tired at all. You had been a huge fan of the team ever since you had seen them win the Euros, and when you heard you were touring in Amsterdam you had begged Sam to meet them. Luckily, they were having a training camp the same week and their staff had agreed to organize an afternoon for you to meet them and get them some publicity.</p><p>Sam rolled her eyes. “Yes, the whole team. Now get out of here, rockstar, get some sleep.”</p><p>Not waiting to hear the rest, you happily walked out of the arena to your tour bus. Right after you slotted yourself into your bunk, your phone buzzed with a notification. Unlocking it, you saw that Jill Roord had posted and smiled to yourself. While you were a fan of the whole Dutch women’s national team, you had to admit that you were especially interested in the young midfielder. You couldn’t get enough of her, and even though your music career had blown up and you were quite famous in your own right, you still felt like a teenager with a celebrity crush. You just hoped you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of her tomorrow.</p><p>//</p><p>“Okay ladies listen up!” The Dutch players were all assembled in the meeting room, fresh from a morning practice and lift session and ready to see what the staff had planned for the rest of the day. “Great practice today, don’t forget we still have some film to review tonight after dinner. But before all that, we have a fun activity for you all this afternoon.”</p><p>“Is it another media event?” Viv groaned. The players laughed, knowing how much the striker hated doing interviews.</p><p>“Not quite,” the event staff member chuckled. “In 30 minutes we’ll be having a visit from Y/N-” Before she could finish, the room burst into excited gasps and whispers. “Okay, I take it you all know who that is?”</p><p>“Of course!” shouted Victoria, along with a chorus of nods and yeses from most of the players. A few of the older or not music-inclined players shook their heads confusedly</p><p>“She’s an American musician. Super popular, you must’ve heard some of her songs.” Jackie explained.</p><p>“Not just her music that’s popular, she’s good-looking too!” yelled Shanice, getting a few laughs and nods of agreement. She elbowed Jill. “Jillie’s a huge fan, puts her on all her playlists, right? Look, she’s blushing! Try not to drool too much today, okay?” The team laughed even harder and Jill shoved Shanice back lightly, her face indeed red but rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”</p><p>//</p><p>As your car pulled up to their training facilities, you started to get nervous. The managers had decided it would be a good photo opportunity to see you kicking a ball around on the field with the team, and you hoped your high school experience playing soccer would be enough to not make a fool of yourself.</p><p>After you greeted the staff, you took a deep breath and jogged onto the pitch where the team was already standing around, passing some balls and chatting. You immediately recognized Jill from her signature high bun, but she was facing away from you. Right then, Lieke saw you and gasped loudly, causing everyone to turn and look at you — including Jill, who just had a pass directed her way. It quickly rolled past her to a stop at your feet. You looked up, meeting her eyes.</p><p>“Hey,” you smiled. “This yours?”</p><p>She nodded, blushing. You kicked it lightly back to her, and turned to the group.</p><p>“Hey everyone!”</p><p>//</p><p>After you left, the team started turning their attention to Jill, who still looked a little starstruck. Viv elbowed her as she walked past. “Surprised you didn’t get her number. Where’s your game, bad boy?” She teased, referring to Jill’s reputation among the fans.</p><p>“Yeah, that was some chemistry you had with her,” Dominique joined in. “Definitely some sparks flying!”</p><p>“You should’ve sung for her, Jillie,” Shanice added. “Pull out your best Troy Bolton moves!” She added a hip thrust for emphasis, miming belting into a microphone.</p><p>The rest of the team quickly joined in. Although Jill loved how close her national teammates were, sometimes the tight-knit family dynamic didn’t work in her favor — like now, when they were all teasing her. It was probably deserved, since she loved annoying her teammates so much, but getting it back was much less fun.</p><p>“I hate you guys,” she said, but grinning. “She probably forgot us the moment she left.”</p><p>//</p><p>You could not stop thinking about Jill. A part of you had hoped seeing her in person would finally calm your now-raging crush, but it was quite the opposite. Watching the way she moved so intently on the ball had been hypnotizing, to the point where you thought her teammates might have noticed you staring a bit. But what really did you in was her smile — when you had met her eyes, you were a goner.</p><p>Sam was less impressed. “As your manager, I’m just gonna say be careful, because the fans are watching your every move. But as your friend…” she gave you a sly smirk, “I just want to point out that for an internationally famous pop star, you have got zero game. And I’m not talking soccer. Thank God that was a closed event because if the fans had seen the heart eyes you were giving her, the publicity team would never be able to contain it.”</p><p>“Shut it,” you grumbled, but you were already opening Twitter to check your mentions. Like clockwork, the media team had already released some of the photos from today: your group shot with the team, getting your own jersey (which you were unashamedly very excited for), and a few of you passing with the team. Luckily, they had worked their magic and made you look passably cool, laughing with the team and managing to juggle the ball for a few touches (the fans didn’t need to know that you had been practicing for it all night).</p><p>Still, though, to your chagrin, in careful scrutiny of the photos, there were definitely some where you looked a little dazed, and it was easy enough to make out where your line of sight was directed. It was even clearer in the video, where you muttered something that made the players around you burst into laughter and you immediately looked at Jill, the most smitten look on your face. Idiot! You swore to yourself quietly. Dozens of media training sessions and you still couldn’t control your facial expressions in public. You could practically hear your publicist, Mal, groan.</p><p>Sure enough, your fans had already begun picking up on it. Your mentions were blowing up with carefully zoomed in screenshots of your face, with captions like “wish y/n would look at me like that” and “find someone who looks at you like y/n looks at the dutch women’s team.” You hoped no one would pick up on exactly which member of the Dutch national team had caught your eye.</p><p>It didn’t help that you hadn’t been very careful with your Instagram browsing and there were definitely a few edits floating around that you had liked. Still, the fans seemed to be eating it up — you had been too exhausted touring lately to give them much content, and they were ravenous. And any publicity was good publicity, right? Suddenly, you had an idea. “Sam, do we still have-”</p><p>“Tickets to your show tomorrow? It’s sold out.” She kept typing furiously on her phone, no doubt drafting yet another crucial email. “But I kept a few VIP passes to send to the Oranjeleeuwinnen.” </p><p>You whooped with joy as she finally looked up, smirking smugly.</p><p>“Try and bring some game this time.”</p><p>//</p><p>You normally tried not to get too nervous before your concerts — it helped that by now you had done a lot of them — but you could not stop thinking about the fact that Jill Roord was somewhere out there in the crowd tonight. You smoothed out your designer outfit nervously, glad that your stylist had let you wear something comfortable tonight, in an ensemble that was casual but still effortlessly cool. Before you knew it, Sam was at the door.</p><p>“Come on, superstar. Showtime.” You could hear your opener finishing up her set. Usually you would’ve been backstage listening already, but you had taken more time in your dressing room. Then, the lights dimmer again and you knew it was time. Taking a deep breath, you stepped on stage and let your music take over the rest.</p><p>//</p><p>“Damn, your girl looks good!” Victoria elbowed Jill, who could barely take her eyes off you to glare at her teammate.</p><p>“She’s not my girl!” she shouted, louder than necessary even in the booming stadium.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, then, you won’t mind when I ask for her number when we meet her backstage?” Shanice jumped in, waving the VIP pass around her neck. There had been a limited number, so not all of the players came, but there was enough for a small group.</p><p>Now Jill really did have to turn away to look at Shaan. “What? But you have-”</p><p>“Relax, Jillie, I’m just kidding. I already got my girl. No need to get possessive!” But before Jill could respond, the first song started and everyone got sucked into your spellbinding performance.</p><p>//</p><p>After the show, you were jumping around backstage, covered in a sheen of sweat with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. That had been one of your best performances yet, and you would be lying if it wasn’t fueled by you singing out every word with one particular person in mind. You quickly went through the photo ops and meet and greets with the fans before security cleared them out and ushered in the Oranjeleeuwinnen players. You grinned. “Hey, long time no see, ladies!”</p><p>You happily took the obligatory group photos before most of the group dispersed around the room, talking with other members of your band or lining up with individual or smaller group photos with you. Jill was the last one in line. You smiled nervously at her, subtly wiping your newly sweaty hands on your pants before placing a cautious arm around her waist. After the picture, you turned to her, Sam’s voice in your head telling you to get it together.</p><p>“So, uh, what’d you think of the show?”</p><p>“It was amazing,” Jill said. “The songs are so different when you perform them live, it’s incredible.”</p><p>“Thanks,” you rub your neck self-consciously, “I really try to give the fans a good time. I’m lucky to get to do this. Oh, uh, speaking of lucky…” You pulled out the Netherlands jersey you had been gifted from the team at your earlier visit. You had planted it in the meeting room just for this moment, hoping your plan would work. “You know, it was such an honor to get this jersey, but I was wondering if I could push my luck and maybe get it signed?” Holding out the Sharpie you had been using for autographs, you grinned sheepishly.</p><p>Jill was obviously surprised, but she nodded and quickly signed her name besides your printed one on the back.</p><p>“Great, looks perfect,” you held it up before frowning. “Oh wait, just one thing…” </p><p>Jill looked at you, concerned. “Is there something wrong?”</p><p>“Yeah, you see, there’s this number on the jersey, but… I was hoping to get your number.” You held your breath. This was the moment of truth. You could see fans leaking the news already: “Y/N shoots her shot with Dutch goddess, gets rejected pathetically!”</p><p>But then Jill spoke: “Oh, you mean #19? I’m sure we can get you a new shirt-” Before she could finish, her teammates around her started laughing. Even when clearly confused, Jill still looked hot.</p><p>“She wants your phone number, Jillie!” Shanice shouted, shaking her head. Jill’s jaw dropped, and you were sure you were bright red by now. Right then, security came back in, saying it was time to wrap things up. But as the players began filing out, thanking you for the tickets, Jill grabbed the jersey and marker from your hands and scribbled something under her name.</p><p>“Text me,” she mumbled before running out. You stood there, frozen, until Sam came over, waving her hand in front of your face. “Well? How’d it go?”</p><p>You looked down at the shirt. Underneath Jill’s autograph was a number, with the message “the only number you need ;)”</p><p>You looked up and grinned. “I think I just had the luckiest night of my life.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok ik reader is like a Biebs-level superstar here but they are also here perhaps the most relatable so far. it's almost as if i, the author, was literally self-inserting myself with my own fanatic tendencies, into the fic... hah. too meta? hope this wasn't too much for you guys. tbh leah is my one True love but i need to think of more prompts for her. i'm open to suggestions and requests but obviously at my discretion. lmk what you think!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>was jill's personality in this akin to a slice of white bread? perhaps. but "you can do anything you want when you sexy." also i know reader is a bit of a smarmy cliche but i just let tropey muscle memory take over. please insert your own effortlessly witty and casual replacement dialogue before whisking miss roord back into the bedroom.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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